Friday, January 3, 2014

The Circling

Every morning we awaken from a
long bout of unconsciousness. We blink, stretch, yawn, and slide out of bed.
Our feet hit the floor and we start walking in a big, wide circle.Tonight we’ll be back in this room, crawling
into bed and slipping down into the same womb of unconsciousness from which we were
born just a few hours ago. Everything is a circle, every day a rebirth. We
orbit our lives like the earth around the sun.

On a circle, it’s impossible to mark one point
as the beginning and another as the end. Words like beginning and end have no
fixed meaning. On the wheel of time there is only this one eternally present
moment. Concepts like past and future are little more than helpful constructs.
They have no more reality than a dream. Like dreams, past and future exist only
in the privacy and isolation of our own consciousness. The still-point at the
hub of the wheel knows nothing of the constant turning at the rim.

This is why the circle is the
most common spiritual symbol on earth –the mandalas of Tibetan Buddhism, the
labyrinth on the floor of Chartres Cathedral, Ezekiel’s wheel in the sky, the archetypal
hero’s journey, the sand paintings of the Hopi and the Navajo – everywhere we
turn human beings express their deepest realizations in circular form. Plato
said that the soul is in the form of a circle. Timaeus, Plato’s Pythagorean
friend, famously defined God as a circle whose center is everywhere and
circumference is nowhere. Throughout Egyptian, Norse, Mesoamerican, and Asian
mythology the circle appears so often that Jung must be right – they can’t all
have originated in one place and dispersed – the circle symbol arises of its
own accord from the collective unconscious of humankind whenever and wherever
they are, a universal symbol or archetype, taking on local flavor, but
retaining its deeper, more mystical meaning throughout its myriad and diverse
expressions. Time, it seems, is a snake eating its own tail.

So here at the beginning of the
year we once again embody all the budding potentiality that January holds,
seeding projects, planning conquests, pouring over maps and setting courses for
new and bountiful waters. Just as we are reborn every morning, and the moon is
reborn every month, so too we celebrate the rebirth of the human project every
year. January comes with a distinct feeling of renewal and redemption. On one hand,
the calendar does seem rather arbitrary and inconsequential. On the other, it
seems deadly serious, this business of starting over. We need it.

Maybe it’s just the way our
brains are wired. We discern patterns. We intrinsically assess and sort the raw
data of our sense-stream into preconceived categories and columns. Conceptual
abstractions like circularity are again and again confirmed in the world around
us. Noticing them helps us make order out of chaos.

We leave home in the morning only
to return again in the evening. A song in the key of G wanders all around the
scale before returning to G. The hero begins her journey in the known world, is
called into the unknown, undergoes essential trials and transformations there
and returns to her place of origin strengthened, wiser, and far more willing
and able to serve. Ocean water evaporates into the atmosphere, forms into
clouds, rains down on the mountains, and gathers into streams that pour into
rivers that return to the sea. The hummingbird returns to the nest where she
was born to lay her own tiny clutch of eggs.

Knowing this makes us ready for
the inevitably cyclical nature of our own lives. We are born toothless,
hairless, incompetent, and incontinent. If we live long enough we return to
those same hapless conditions. In the beginning and at the end of our lives we
are utterly dependant on others – only in the middle are we strong enough to
care for ourselves. And if we’re particularly skillful, we can even care for
others.

Since the entire universe, from
the spiraling of galaxies to the whirling of electrons, is organized into
circles, it seems like a good idea to move through our own lives with the same
sense of shape and direction.Straight-edged linear thinking and simplistic expectations are far less
effective than allowing the naturally cyclical patterns to carry us over and
around obstacles. There will be days when you are not at your best. Wait.
You’ll come around. There will be days when you are shockingly creative and
productive. Don’t resent all the other days for not being like this one. Begin
to notice the waxing and waning, dawning and dusking, rising and falling nature
of all your energies and attitudes, and allow them to move unhindered.

In the longer cycles of our
lives, learn to honor the natural energies of the season. There is a virtue for
every hour and a natural graciousness for every age – in our youth, humility;
in our adulthood, responsibility; in our middle age; contemplation; in our
final years, appreciation.

Artists of every media understand
and exploit the circularity of life through the means of symmetry, rhyme, and
harmony. Visual artists create cyclical echoes with shape, form, color, light,
and shadow. Musicians root deeply into repeating patterns and trust their
audience to recognize their own longing in the singer’s sadness. Beyond every
heartbreak a healing, beyond every journey a homecoming, beyond every death a
resurrection, beyond every betrayal a redemption. Every performer who has ever stood on a stage
has felt in their bones this truth – it is not they alone who create the music
in the room. The performer is merely the channel through whose hands, heart,
and voice the longing of the audience comes. We are in this together. We are
not making the music. The music is making us.

Art is relationship. Martin Buber
was right – God or the sacred exists in the space between us when we meet in
authentic dialogue. God is indeed a circle whose center is everywhere and
circumference nowhere.

What’s more important, the
performer or the audience? It’s a terrible question. All that matters is what
happens when they come together, when the circle is unbroken, and the vibrant
aliveness of presence emerges through the cracks of our collective
imperfection. Aesthetic appreciation is an art form. Put down your phone. Stop
talking. Lean in. Let yourself go. Feel yourself lifted into the center of a
great circle, a paradise without beginning or end. Let yourself be reborn into
the eternal now, a homeland where the soul feels, finally, fully alive. In this
way we are each reborn, every moment, again and again.